


Curiosity Killed the Cat

by TheFathersManbun (John_Gucci_Seed)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is an alpha, Knotting, M/M, Peter shenanigans, Werewolf Culture, cora actually exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 17:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Gucci_Seed/pseuds/TheFathersManbun
Summary: (And satisfaction brought it back). Peter makes a comment that gets Stiles curious, and that's never a good thing for everyone else.





	Curiosity Killed the Cat

    This is not what Stiles had pictured when Peter had said “born werewolf differences.” The man had been draped over his side of the sofa, languidly observing the weekly Scott and Derek pissing contest with feigned disinterest, when he decided to partake in his favoured past-time. 

  Riling up Stiles.

  It took embarrassingly little. He’d noticed the glances, the smells, the  _ tension.  _ He’d just leaned over towards the boy, who was tapping his feet against the sofa armrest, and made one of his barely disguised innuendos. Well, at this time they were directed at Derek.

The boy had reddened up remarkably well in such a short time- Peter made a mental note to start timing him- and spluttered out something about a “stupid creeper-wolf.” He’d probably distracted the two alphas, but Peter just couldn’t resist another poke.

“You’ll need to be well-prepared,” he mused, voice silk and honey. “My nephew  _ is  _ an alpha; even you’d need some assistance for those pesky...born-werewolf differences. Rather,  _ additions. _ ” 

“Peter, that’s enough.” Derek cut him off before he could go any further, his cheeks now reddening too. 

Oh,  _ that  _ was an interesting development. 

Peter raised his hands in surrender and leaned back into his sofa; his work done. 

Stiles had seethed, which was an amusing sight while he was curled up in a beanbag on the ground, but his fickle curiosity was already off on the various werewolf lore sites google offered. So underneath his anger, Peter had known the boy was done. 

And done he certainly was. 

Stiles had barely returned home before firing up his old Bessie and scouring his favourites list for the more obscure ‘werewolf lore’ sites. He skimmed down through the page, passing the ‘mysticism and occult’ section with a scowl, before he landed on the title he needed.

_ ‘Rituals of the Olde Wulf’  _ gave him a moment of cringing, but he soldiered through, if only to get the creepy voice of Peter out of his head. 

He scrolled through the old html page- blinking rapidly to avoid eye contact with the gaudy, sparkling moon stickers at the site border- and his brows began to crease the further along he read. When he finished the paragraph, he leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers against the worn armrest. 

Peter and a dodgy website were saying some very interesting things. Scott had never mentioned anything like this, but he was bitten. Derek had never mentioned anything like this, but he was  _ Derek. _

Stiles stood, kicking his chair back by the wheel. He powered down the hallway to the guest room and rummaged through the cupboard at the window-side. Triumphantly, he pulled out the leather journal, and flicked through it’s pages with more care than he would his own. 

“Where were you, again?” He muttered softly, pressing his fingers into each creased corner of every page fondly. “Pumpkin soup...brioche...aha! Cześć, beautiful chocolate cake.” 

He clicked a picture of the page and carefully replaced the journal back into the cupboard. Ten minutes later, he was firmly stirring through a home-made mixture and was all-at-once envious for the strength werewolves had. Maybe Scotty would come over if he begged nicely enough and...Oh. 

No. That  _ wasn’t  _ happening.

And so it was, two hours later, that a very amused Peter found the box left at the loft’s front door. Leaning down, he lifted it up and smelt the utterly recognisable scent of Stiles and  _ embarrassment  _ and cake. This was...unexpected, as far as gestures went. A love-cake? The boy never ceased to amaze him. 

Upon entering, he gave Cora a nod in greeting (which she didn’t return in yet another display of her immaculate manners), and made his way to the kitchen. He focused, but failed to hear any sound of his nephew in the loft. His amusement would have to wait, it seemed. He set the box in the middle of the kitchen island-directly in the view of the front door- and was careful to leave the scent of Stiles as preserved as he could. 

“You didn’t happen to hear Stiles arrive, did you?” He asked Cora, who was snuggled into the sofa with her new iPad.

She barely glanced up. 

“Stiles? Why would he be here?” She asked, swiping her finger across her screen absentmindedly. “It’s not pack meeting.”

Peter sighed, making his way to  _ his  _ sofa on the other side of the room. 

“Ah, to be oblivious,” he commented, picking at the armrest with almost-claws. “He’s been by- he left a rather... _ heartfelt _ gift for our dear Alpha.”

_ That  _ caught her attention. She peeked up at him through her new bangs, and he could see her face crease in a frown. 

“A gift?” She asked, and then audibly sniffed until she located the box in the kitchen. “Stiles...gave him a  _ gift?”  _ She stood and wandered over to the present, poking around it carefully, yet not daring to touch a present meant for the alpha. “Did he...know? The significance, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t assume so,” Peter replied, suddenly behind her, making her raise her unseen hackles for a moment. He pretended not to notice, and instead deliberately trailed his fingers closer to the box. “Should we look?”

“No.” Her answer was all instinct.

He grinned, and flicked the lid open. They both peeked inside, and were deathly silent for a moment as they took in the... _ gift. _

Peter began to laugh. 

Oh, Derek’s face was going to be  _ priceless. _

* * *

 

Stiles had just finished washing up the pan. It sat drying in the rack while his heart pounded and his fingers itched for stimulation. What else could he clean? 

Just as he began to rummage in the pantry for some old bowl he could procrastinate with, the door swung open. 

He stumbled against the cupboard, fumbling for the door handle to pull himself up with and peer into the foyer. 

Derek met his gaze expectantly. A familiar box was in his hands. 

Ah.

“H-Hello?” Stiles began, taking a deep breath. 

The alpha flinched for a moment, before stepping into the kitchen and setting the box down on the bench. 

“Yes, the cake. Did you...eat it?” Stiles asked, still not moving away from the pantry. 

Derek sighed, the soft sound thunderous in the silent room. 

“Did you know what it meant?” He asked instead of answering. He stared meaningfully at the boy on the opposite side of the kitchen. “Giving a gift to the alpha?” 

Stiles’ frown gave him the answer he needed. 

“I...That’s a  _ thing?” _ He stammered, stepping forward. “I just...Did you look at it?” 

Derek’s eyebrows rose, remembering opening the lid to see the crude message scrawled in pale icing atop the chocolate. 

“I mean, I’m sorry if I insulted one of your werewolf rules, but I didn’t know,” Stiles continued to ramble, tapping his fingers against the bench. “I couldn’t actually  _ ask,  _ you know. This was the best way I thought and-” 

“You didn’t insult anything,” Derek interrupted him, a strangely soft expression overcoming him. “It wasn’t an insult. It was...an invitation.”

“An invitation?” Stiles repeated with a frown. “An invitation for... _ oh. _ ” 

The alpha nodded grimly. 

“I understand it’s not consent,” he quickly amended. “But it’s...something personal among werewolves. Gifts, especially food, are not something we take lightly.”

“But if it had been to any other alpha,” Stiles began, gnawing at the edge of his lip, “one more morally dubious, of course, would it have been taken as consent?”   
Derek firmly pushed down his instinctive growl at the thought of the human giving anything to another alpha. 

“Perhaps. But they’d be wrong.”

Stiles nodded, tapping furiously at the bench while the cogs in his brain churned through this information. Surely, this would take up an entire chapter in his biographical bestiary. 

He was silent for a few minutes, until the alpha brought up the reason Stiles had made the cake in the first place.

Derek flipped open the lid, gesturing down the cake.

“ _ Really,  _ Stiles?” 

Contrasting against the chocolate, the hastily scrawled ‘ _ Are knots real?’  _ glowed in white icing. Maybe the smiley-face at the end was a touch too much, in retrospect. 

A beat passed. 

Stiles shrugged sheepishly and laughed nervously. 

“A boy’s going to be curious right?” 

* * *

 

He groaned at the stretch. It was too much; he wasn’t able to take it all. Was he breaking? Would Derek break him? 

“Shh, Stiles,” the alpha in question murmured against the nape of his neck. “Relax.”

Another inch wider and he had to bit his lip to cut off a wrecked sob. 

“You’re not the one getting a damn tennis ball shoved up his ass,” he hissed back, before gasping as the expanding knot brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. He breathed deeply, trailing off the end of his breath with a soft whine. 

“Shh,” Derek muttered once more, tender hands brushing up and down the other man’s sides. “You’re doing fine.” 

Stiles couldn’t help but choke out a laugh.

“How are you so...okay?” He asked, breathing heavily through the stretch. “Aren’t you feeling  _ anything?” _

Derek hummed against his skin, and rocked his hips ever-so-slightly. Stiles gasped, clenching his fingers tightly against the sheets and was painfully aware of every inch of the hard length inside him.

“I’d say I’m feeling a lot, right now,” the alpha replied; voice bordering on sarcastic. He kissed against a tender spot on the human’s neck, before continuing, “but I know you need to talk. You  _ always  _ need to talk.”

Stiles pouted, before shrugging.   
“You’re not wrong- ah!” He was cut off as he shifted his hips against the alpha and the knot brushed against another sensitive spot inside him. 

All at once, he felt the simmering ache of his own need roar back to life with a vengeance. He groaned, and pushed back onto Derek. He felt somewhat vindicated by the sudden grunt he received in return. 

“Careful,” Derek warned him, hands rushing to halt him by the hips. “You could hurt yourself.”

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ushered to the side in pack emergencies, made to stay in the car, and even  _ here  _ nothing changed. He bit his lip and, with a surge of determination, clenched hard against the knot, and rocked his hips back as well as he could without causing discomfort. Derek gasped out at the movement, claws digging into the human’s side.

“I’m not...going to break,” Stiles growled out, and began a rhythm against the knot. Brushing over his sensitive walls, rocking back down, feeling a thrill of pleasure as Derek hissed out at the movements. 

The alpha had already been close before they’d begun, and with a final throb, Stiles felt Derek release inside him. He felt a whine build up in his throat, and he moved faster with earnest; chasing his own release. 

Ever considerate, Derek reached to the place where they were joined and circled the human’s entrance almost fondly- breathing out a chuckle when Stiles gasped and clenched further. He moved his hand up and began to stroke the human firmly, revelling in the sounds he drew from Stiles.

They grew in pitch, until finally, Stiles found his own release, choking out a whimper as his walls clutched firmly at the stone-hard knot deep inside him. 

They settled into a comfortable position, and waited for the knot to recede. Derek kept his arms tight around him, gently kissing the nape of his neck every now and then. 

“I suppose you should thank Peter for this,” Stiles said, once he had regained his voice. “He’s the one who made me curious.”

“He could have the cake, I guess,” Derek suggested wryly, remembering the discarded and likely too-warm dessert left on the bench.

“He can most certainly  _ not  _ have the cake, thank you,” the human hissed back, wriggling slightly to glare at the alpha over his shoulder. “That is a family recipe, and it would be a  _ gift!  _ Peter is getting no invitation from me and...Oh, my god, you’re joking, aren’t you?”

Derek shrugged, a small smile picking at the corner of his lip.

“It is known to happen, now and then,” he answered. 

Stiles scowled at his pillow, but was unable to stop himself smiling in return. 

“You know I’m going to need to test this whole ‘knotting’ thing a few more times right,” he said, semi-seriously. “Just to...fully sate my curiosity, you know.”

Derek hummed thoughtfully, as though he were actually considering refusing him.

“If you must.” 

Oh, the troubles he went to to keep this human happy.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> My gift for do-what-the-knight-tells-you. I hope you enjoyed this!! Thanks for reading!


End file.
